Heredity of Earth and Moon
by anaisgrin
Summary: I, like a lot of people, wanted to see what would have happened had Alice and Uncas lived to continue their story. This work starts after the Huron camp scene at the end of the film. Characters are not my own and are canon, but the story will change from there. This is my first attempt at writing fiction, so I would love your feedback to see if I should keep writing.
1. Chapter 1: The End

Alice felt a grip taught on her arm and her body jerked roughly. She stumbled and felt the dust against her palms, her elbows jarred, her skirts twisted around her legs. A strong hand, all sinew, and rough skin, gripped her arm again and dragged her upward like a limbless doll. She could hear the blood coursing in her ears. Her mouth was dry. Angry voices were all around her. She could understand none of them. Her sister. Where was her sister? She stumbled, was dragged, along. She tried to keep one foot in front of the other. Tried not to fall again. Her wrists ached from the rough bindings. She scanned the sea of dark heads. All dark. All moving around her. Bodies. Like the eddy of a wild river. Where was Cora? Cora! She was right here. Then the shouting began and the crowd parted and she could see the fire, smell the stench of burning hair, skin. Strawberry blonde hair. Not black. Burning.

And then the noise and the din and the smoke receded as she was pushed along, dragged along, ascending up the path of rough stone and dust, into the mountain. The Huron village dropped away and was replaced by the cool, wet air of the forest. Alice breathed heavily as she continued her climb up the mountain pass. She heard her feet scrape against rock and grind into the dusty soil in a rhythmic configuration. Her breath came hard and ragged. There was no idle talk from the men that steered her. Only silence, and breath, the clink of metal and the smell of bodies and animal skins. Of sweat and man smell and smoke from the last fire. And blood. A savage and, somehow, intoxicating perfume. Anxiety foamed in her stomach. She could taste the bile in her mouth. Her lips and limbs felt strangely cold. Numb. She was all alone now and a dread, greater than any she had felt, began to rise inside her. Bleed into her flesh. Where were they taking her? Why her? Only her.

The mountain rose and the valley floor fell away. The sight was so beautiful it made her heart want to burst. She wanted to cry. She felt numb. She felt terror. The one they called Magwa strode two in front of her. He had only looked at her once since the chief had spoken. Since they had taken her from the group, her sister, and her world had been torn asunder. That look was filled with all seething, acrid, malevolence. She had only made out a few words in French during the meeting with the sachem. "Magwa", "blonde child", "wife" "hate" "heart". Had she been given to this man as a prize? Like a shiny object or a traders trinket. The equivalent of a skin of whiskey. From the look on his face, it seemed to her that he would have been gladder had she been just that. By the look on his face, he would have been gladder if it had been her flesh that had burned in the... Alice shut her eyes tightly against the thought. Strawberry blonde. Hair like fire. Duncan. No. She could not think of it.

Her thoughts turned, unbidden, to dark, black hair. Almost liquid as she ran her fingers through it. Had found a braid and had toyed with it. The sound of the waterfall came rushing into her ears. The smell of the wet earth and sweat. The feel of cool stone underneath her. And all around her, warmth. His warmth. Enveloping her.

Suddenly, there was a loud 'crack' and Alice was torn violently from her reverie. Shouting. Grunting. Gunshot. Scuffling. The dull wet 'thwack' of something hard hitting flesh. She saw a dark green flash. And there he was.


	2. Chapter 2: The Cardinal

From his vantage point deep in the undergrowth, Uncas could see the girl, wrists unbound, dragged by a party up into the mountain, led by The Broken One.

The girl. _O:nenste_ he had called her, teasingly, by the river. _Corn_ hair. His jest was brotherly and meant kindly, and she had smiled at him as her hand went idly to her head where corn colored wisps were escaping from under her hat. He _should_ have called her _Onon:ta_. Milk woman. She was creamy and soft and he understood, at that moment, that he did wish to touch her skin, and not in the way of a brother. She had smiled at him and quickly looked away, and her pale chest had flushed crimson like the cardinal bird. That night he had dreamed of the cardinal. It had come to him, landing on the hilt of his musket. It stared at him intently with it's beady black eyes. Bobbing a dark face under a spiky red crest. As he reached out to touch it, it flew a few feet away from him and stared. When he looked again, the bird was sitting on a tall tree branch and around the branch coiled a pink silk ribbon which fluttered as the wind began to pick up and swirl around him. When he looked again, the cardinal and the ribbon were gone and a fat, writhing, copperhead twisted in their place. Recoiling, he took a few steps backward and found that there was nothing under his feet. His arms flailed wildly and darkness engulfed him, speckled with bright white stars. Uncas was falling.

A smooth, even voice brought Uncas back to the present. He shook his head to banish the memory. Set his resolve. "Ten. Maybe thirteen." It was his father's voice whispering to him now in low dependable tones. A reassuring voice he had heard a thousand times as they hunted deer amongst the fir trees. As he had taught Uncas to set snares for squirrel with his corded, steady hands. Uncas looked at the man now and placed a hand on his sturdy shoulder. Chingachgook turned to look at him. Uncas looked deep into his eyes. His father's dignified face fell into an expression of confusion. He squeezed his shoulder. _I must leave you, Father. I must do this thing._ _Konoronkhwa. I love you._ Uncas turned and began his ascent up the mountain.


	3. Chapter 3: Bellona, guide my hand

And there he was. Just the sight of him quieted her.

Until that moment, Alice was like a like a cord hefting a cargo that was far beyond the limit of its bearing. All raw nerves. Exposed. A negative space from a new missing tooth. She heard the blood hammering in her ears. Alice was unravelling. _I can't breathe._ She thought. _I can't breathe. I can't…_ She closed her eyes and let the memory of the smell of him flow over her. Sooth her. As if curling under new washed linen. Her lungs filled with air, sweet as rainfall. As if plugging the gap with her tongue. Alice felt the grip around her arm tighten adamantly. She could see panic come over the face of the warrior that led her. Uncas was carving a path through the Huron party, the rhythm of his movements calculated yet instinctual. Dispatching each opponent with the cool precision that she had seen before. Except something was different. She sensed a slight desperation corrupting his usual calm demeanour. His breath came harder, and she could tell that his limbs moved with an encumbrance that trespassed on their usual grace. He threw his musket to the ground, drew his knife from behind his back and struck his final opponent to the ground with a savage blow across the temple. His final opponent, that is, before he faced Magua. Weapons already drawn, Magua stepped up to Uncas. Without hesitation, Uncas advanced on the Huron warrior. Magua's tomahawk flew to meet his and they locked together. The ring of steel proclaiming the first steps of a fatal dance. Uncas's desperation and exhaustion now in blunt contrast with Magua's detached and impassive demeanour. Alice felt the grip on her arm soften as her captor visibly relaxed. The tomahawks rang out again and again. Then steel flashed brightly across green linen and time took on a new viscosity. Alice saw the back of Magua's sinewy calves step lightly toward her as he withdrew. His last blow had rung true and Uncas looked down at the crimson shadow that had materialised on his torso. Alice could not hear a sound but the pounding of her heart. It deafened her. His face, so determined but a moment ago, fell into a kind of disbelief. Then he lifted his head, his eyes meeting hers. _How? How could I have failed you? Now. Now when I see you for the first time. And you see me._

Alice did see him. She saw through him, and inside him, and she felt he could see inside her. All the things that she held inside herself. Her secret love, desire, rage, impotence. All the things that were ugly and improper. All that things that she had tried to conceal but were a part of herself. She felt naked before him. And accepted. And now she would lose him because of her incapability, her powerlessness, her weakness. The injustice ate away at her like acid. Inside her secret self, she raged.

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Authors comment: Thank you, everyone, so very much for your kind feedback and comments. I really appreciate it. I finally got some time to write a bit more. Hopefully, you like this one too. I'm happy for constructive criticism to improve my writing. I just wish I had more time to go back and read it through a bit more before posting. (Edit: thanks MohawkWoman for your advice!)


	4. Chapter 4: Luna

As the tomahawks rang together, the sound fractured the air surrounding the vastness of the cliff face. Magua's knife whistled and flashed and it carved the air between them. Again, the weapons locked and Uncas saw an opening. He struck low, but Magua's knife was already at his side and Uncas felt it draw across his stomach. Hot and sharp. Like nothing. And all. It was done.

Uncas sucked in his breath. _Strange_. He thought. Up until then, everything had been so frantic. So chaotic. He barely had time to question himself. His flight up the mountain had left him feeling exhausted and desperate. He was not accustomed to either of these feelings. Certainly, he had felt weary. The deep ache in his muscles from a full day of walking the course of a river when trailing a bull elk. The languor brought about by his singular calm focus maintained for a full arc of the sun. It was a good type of feeling, that weariness. This was different. Uncas felt tired. Exhausted. His limbs had been strangely cold and heavy as he had sent them at each man in the war party. Sundering them with knife and rifle butt. His muscles had felt caustic as he forced himself to move, though his motions were instinctual. He had stepped, paused, advanced. Catching the air and bending it to his will.

 _Alice_. The desperation had crept upon him again. _Alice!_ Two, three men had fallen to his blows. He had cut the last one down with a strike to the temple but his actions had felt curiously sluggish. Uncas had paused to breathe and adjust. He _must_ regain his control. This was not how he had learned to fight. Chingachgook had taught him better. His father had instructed him to practice his kata for hours until his movements became swift and instinctive, as much a part of him as breathing. Until his contenders fell, one after the other, like tripping on the wind. He had learned to anticipate an opponent's motions. Their fear, their weakness. And, like the impassive flow of a river, he wore them down. Each one. There had been no time for Uncas to compose himself before Magua was upon him. He had towered over him. Tomahawk and dagger ready. His gaze had been expressionless and reposed. _His_ tomahawk had felt leaden in his hand. An odd feeling. Without hesitation, Uncas had used all of his remaining strength to lift his arm, for Alice. He had not understood why. Only for the feeling in his belly and the dream spirit that had spoken to him.

It was his mother who had told him to trust in the dreams. She had been a dreamer, like him, and she had dreamed her own passing. She had come to him that day when he was a boy. He was playing with a corn shuck doll that Nathaniel had made him. It had had a bright red yan kee linen jacket and Uncas had carved it a dugout which he placed in the water by the river. He was only a boy and had felt impatient at the length of time that she had held him. A long time. Longer than he felt was usual. She had stroked his brow and had told him that he was to be a fine warrior. That he should trust in the spirits because they would show him the future that must be. That he was a bough in a great, strong tree of which the trunk was built of earth and the leaves were shaped of moonlight. Only when he was grown, and she was gone, had he understood why she had held him for so long.

Now, he looked down and saw the crimson stain begin to spread on his shirt. _Red. This is not right._ Was this the cardinal? His mother had believed that the monogamous bird would be the one to show him where to find his heart and place it in his chest. He knew this. But then, why was he dying? Uncas looked up. _Alice_. Her eyes were infinite pools. As large as the moon. He fell into them. The sound of the waterfall washed over him and he could smell her. Feel her small, warm form held tight against his. He forgot the aching in his body and the urgency and the desperate fear. In these bottomless eyes, Uncas found something hidden. He saw... her. Felt a stillness, deeper than even he himself had felt before. Uncas yielded to the great spirit. The life force who had guided him for so long, and who already knew his fate. Then, curiously, something in the girl's eyes changed. Hardened. _Strange_. He thought.

Every single man in the war party was watching the contest between the bold and reckless young warrior and their formidable and pitiless leader with a rapt fascination that bordered on amusement. Nobody noticed the girl as she moved toward the warrior beside her, and the bone knife at his side.

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Author's note: I have revised this chapter after I had originally posted it to improve the flow and the perspective of time a bit more (A big thanks to BlueSaffire in particular for the helpful guidance). Thank you so much for all of your supportive comments and valuable feedback. It means the world and is really encouraging me to keep going with this story. I hope I don't disappoint!


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